Disclaimer: Do I really have to? (Looks at lawyer; lawyer nods; I sigh) I do not own the Twilight saga and its characters. They all belong to the very fortunate Stephenie Meyer. Any recognizable items are not mine. I own this story's plot, though.

A/N: I'm back. :) And for a long time, I think. School year is over here at my place. Done being a junior. :) Now, I have to focus on my college entrance tests, which I really need lots of time to study. But I'm still dedicated to writing, so come what may. :D

Enjoy the chapter and remember to review. ;)

Chapter 2: Relief

It was all too sudden.

My lady's maid had woken me up in the early hours of the morning to prepare me for the wedding. Fluffy, white cloths and frilly satins invaded my room as a group of women treated me like a rag doll, yanking my hair to a certain style and fitting me in the wedding dress. A powder of some sort was applied to my face, and I nearly choked from the suffocating atmosphere.

My eyes had been drooping, and I was startled at the sudden exclaims of delight. It seemed like they had completed their superfluous task of peppering me up. Mother arrived and gushed at how beautiful I looked. I just gave her a small smile and never even bothered looking at the mirror when I was told to go downstairs.

I was helped in a carriage and was on my way to the church where my life as an independent woman would soon end. I couldn't stop the sighs that escaped from my mouth. The disappointment and despair weighed heavily, like dropping stones on my heart, in every step the horses took.

It might have seemed repetitive, ghastly, and irritating to others–especially my mother–that I complained about my impending future with a man – a rich one, I might add sourly. But in reality, a lot of women were just too closed-minded at the thought of finding another opportunity, other than marrying. I would really love to do a vast number of things. But with my age and gender, I could not help but let those dreams go. Letting them go, though, was entirely different from always dreaming about them. And so, that was what I was doing; trying to entertain myself with fantasies that would never come true.

I'd never pitied myself until my father died. Maybe it was the fact before that had comforted me that no matter what happened, I would still have Father on my side. It was erroneous of me to have relied too much on that before. I'd learned my lesson the hard way. Thinking of how alone I was once more, dread settled firmly at the bottom of my stomach.

"Isabella," my mother's voice exclaim. I looked up at her in surprise and was even more astonished when I felt cold, wet tears streaming down my face. Lifting one hand, I touched my cheek, making it damp. When I looked at my mother, she was glaring at me. "I know what you are doing. You are letting your mind get ahead of you again. Let me remind you, Isabella. Things are never the same since your father died. We need to stabilize our finances and our status in the society. Would you like to be a hopeless beggar your whole life?" she seethed.

Being a beggar is better than doing things against my will, I thought grimly. But, of course, considering my condition, how I had no one, I replied, "No, Mother."

She straightened in her seat, arranging her skirt. "That's better. Now, wipe those tears before Lord James sees that." I did what I was told, wondering if I would ever get a chance to do what I actually want, not what my mother does.

Since my mother was keeping an eye out for another crying occurrence, I turned my head towards the small window beside me.

As I stared up at the mighty, blue sky, and let my gaze fall on the towering mountains–a formation wherein the untouchable heavens and the tangible earth met–a piece of serenity rested in my heart. The birds from afar looked so carefree and independent that, for a moment, I longed to be one, too.

The peacefulness I was feeling was almost similar to the one I'd had last night from the priest. Even though he might have been bewildered by my sudden and unnecessary outburst, I preferred to think otherwise. Something about him–the one inarticulate word he'd uttered and his presence–stirred a memory.

If I was not mistaken, I'd been six at that time. A few months after my mother had hired a governess, actually. He was also six and had been playing by the stream–which was a few paces from our home. I was lying beside a large oak tree, enjoying the breeze and the afternoon. I think I sang a soft lullaby, which attracted his attention. He clouded my view of the moving sky when he bended a little to look at my face.

"You have a good singing voice, miss," he complimented. I blushed and tried to stand so we could formally converse.

He held out his hand. A sign that he wanted to help me. I took it gratefully. Under the brilliant sun, his hair reflected that of copper and tin. It struck to me as odd to see a boy with that kind of hair. Nevertheless, I dismissed those thoughts, and dusted off my back. I looked at his face, trying to remember if I'd seen him somewhere around town. Hmm, apparently not.

"Is there something on my face?" he asked curiously. My blush darkened at the fact that someone had caught me staring at them. The hand that wasn't holding mine reached up to touch his face. As a result, a smudge of mud appeared on his left cheek. I giggled at the impeccable timing.

Freeing my hand from his, I fumbled for my handkerchief and wiped his cheek with it. "Yes, it seems." I smiled and he did, too. "I am sorry for the inquiry, but I don't think I've seen you around."

"That's no inquiry at all." His green eyes sparkled as he laughed, while I was praying for a tornado to take me away from here. "But yes, lassie, you haven't seen me around for that long. My family just moved here."

"Oh, really? That's remarkable." From the direction of my house, I could hear someone calling my name. "It appears that I have to go." Disappointment leaked into my voice, somehow surprising me.

"Oh." He mirrored my tone. "Well, nice meeting you, miss." His end tone told me to tell him my name.

"Isabella," I answered, smiling.

He beamed back. "My name is Edward."

Edward.

Edward and I had been good friends ever since. We'd always met at the stream, playing and simply having tons of fun. But it was cut off when the governess had knowledge of it. I still longed for his company, I realized, when there was a pang on my chest. I heard he'd tried seeking me out, only to be driven out by my mother.

Those days with Edward were different. It was as if I'd gotten to be in another world–a free one, as a matter of fact–every moment with him. The laughs we had shared, and all the jovial memories we'd had and still had. I hoped he still remembers me.

That was it! Edward's– But I never got to finish my though because the horse halted, signifying our arrival. My stomach churned uncomfortably. That past memory had prevented me from panicking and worrying about my upcoming nuptials. I exhaled sharply, struggling to keep myself back to reality.

I went out of the carriage in a haze. The ladies–which were clad in their most elegant dresses–gave exclaims of joy when they saw me and talked amongst themselves, including my mother. She instructed me and my lady's maid to wait for a while in one of the small, dainty rooms of the abbey. It appeared Lord James had not been in the venue yet.

With my eyes trained on the floor, my lady's maid had to steer me using my elbow to the room. I could sense her anxiety since she was well-aware of me and my nature. I sat on one of the spindly chairs and felt as vulnerable as its thin legs. My hands were entwining and lying on my lap. Still, the terrible sensations were on my stomach.

We had been silent for quite a while, that is, until someone knocked. My lady's maid and I both flinched at the sound. She looked at me with so much pity in her eyes, knowing that my time was up. All I could give her was a miserable smile.

"Milady," she started, "You have to know that you are the bravest and the most beautiful person I'd ever known." Then, she went to open the door.

I wanted to rebuke her, but I just shook my head, a few strands falling in front of my eyes. Exasperated, I frowned and saw a rectangular mirror over the east wall. I got up and headed over there, meaning to arrange myself so Mother wouldn't pester me about my appearance.

Now I perfectly understood what the ladies from before and my lady's maid had said. The woman standing in front of me was not Isabella Swan. Her face looked so angelic and heartbreakingly beautiful, that even Narcissus would forget about his own image and fall for this girl. Her hair was like a halo over head, adding to the beatific effect. She was a fallen angel. Oh, how ironic that sounded.

I raised my hand, to see if it would copy me. It did. Warily, I glanced down at my dress. I knew it was white and all, but the designs were unexpected. There were even diamonds–diamonds!–embedded on the dress's neckline.

Just looking at the dress, everyone would say it was all too much. Before I could complain it to any one, a priest walked into the room and closed the door.

"Reverend," I muttered. "What brings you to this room?"

The priest was wearing a cassock and a hat on, though he was inside the monastery. He had his back on me, and when he turned around after hearing my voice, a gasp broke free from me.

Those eyes that I were accustomed to before. And when he pulled off his hat, that familiar coiffure.

He smiled involuntarily at my shocked form. "You are quite stunning, Isabella. But I'd still say your voice is the best."

"Edward?" I asked, both doubtful and astonished.

Edward took a few steps towards me, stopping when we were a palm's distance. He brushed the lock of hair from a while ago away from my face and said, still smiling, "Yes?"

Finally, when I had my doubts dissolving into thin air, my face broke into a huge smile. Before I could register what I was doing, I wrapped my arms around Edward's torso and laughed blissfully, forgetting everything. "I am so glad you are here." I laughed again, so happy to be reunited with my childhood friend.

I felt his arms go around me, too, and his entertained chuckles. "I have no idea you would be so ecstatic to see me."

"Me, too," I replied, smiling. Then, as if awoken from a bad dream, my mouth turned downward. "Hold on." I pulled back and gazed sadly at his emerald eyes. "Edward, you have to know this. I'm supposed to marry Lord James today. I'm afraid, our reunion wouldn't be as exciting as I thought it would be," I said bitterly.

But Edward's merry expression didn't falter. Instead, what came out of his mouth surprised and puzzled me. "I am aware of your wedding. Though, with your imaginative mind, it's hard to believe you have not yet figured out my mission just by glancing at my clothing."

Oh, yes. Staring at his clothes, I wondered if he pursued the path of priesthood. I raised an eyebrow at it. My eyes, then, flickered up to his face when he chuckled. "I didn't know you wanted to be a priest. You didn't mention that in our–what?" I questioned him when he laughed loudly.

"Isabella," he started in an amused voice. "Priesthood is the farthest profession in my mind. Even now. I came here to take you away. Remember, yesterday at the confession room?" He continued when I nodded, wondering where the conversation was headed. "Well, you seemed really devastated when I heard your lovely voice, and I told myself, 'I want to help this girl with the absolutely amazing voice. This girl who I first met here in this town, and made my moments with her particularly special. Whatever it takes.'" He took both my hands in his, his face suddenly solemn.

What he'd said made me smile through the flowing tears from my eyes. One moment I was into thinking I was doomed for the rest of my life, the next; Edward was here, offering a way out. I couldn't say no to that, right? My deceased father couldn't have sent a clearer message. God couldn't have dropped a more obvious blessing. They wanted me to be happy. To have a life outside this social-influenced city. A life without anyone telling me what to do or what not to do. A life where I could be free.

An opportunity like this was rare. But the part of me that loved my mother held me back. What would happen to her if I abandoned my wedding? I knew for sure that disappointment was not the only emotion she would feel. She would have hated me as long as I lived.

When Edward sensed my hesitation, he said all of a sudden, "The more risk you take, the more chances of you finding what you really want. It's all trust and courage. You are your own person, and the decision is yours on what you do with your life. I'm telling you, Isabella. You can lie to yourself and everybody, but each day you do, you're rotting your heart. I think you are no longer considered human." He offered his hand, just like when we first met.

I chortled at his humanistic speech. "More mythological creatures?" I asked, humor coloring my voice. I knew his passion on that topic. Like what I expected, he laughed lightly, and got serious when we heard the sound of footsteps. "Edward," I said, capturing his attention. "Will you help me run away?"

He grinned, his eyes sparkling like the stars at night. "That is my purpose for being here." I took his hand, this time, no more shilly-shallying on my part.

A/N: So sorry if it's short. I'll try to update after a few days. Remember to review. :)